


Kristelsa Oneshots

by justonemoreartist



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, Hidden Feelings, Infidelity, Post canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2112768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justonemoreartist/pseuds/justonemoreartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unrelated Post-canon Kristelsa oneshots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nature's First Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa's confinement means that her firsthand knowledge of her world is poor, something that Kristoff is uniquely suited to rectify.

"Which one is that one?" she asked, indicating a slender tree with paper thin bark that was beginning to peel.

"That's a birch," Kristoff said, "and they're good for furniture, firewood and in a pinch you can use the bark - see how thin it is? - to write on if you don't have any paper."

Elsa frowned, tilting her head as she considered this. "Why wouldn't you?" She grinned with one side of her mouth, a wry smile that had little humor attached to it. "Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in papers; you'll forgive me if it makes no sense to be at a loss for them."

He shrugged, smiling up at the sky. The day was still young, the Sun only a few hands' width above the horizon, and the blue was shot through with streaks of white that promised fair weather for the rest of the day, which was good, since Anna had made it clear that she expected them to return with stories to tell about all the things they'd done and seen. And that Elsa, whose large, expressive eyes were weighed down with bags, would be seen in cheerier spirits when she arrived back home.

It seemed odd to call a palace that, but there it was. Often he awoke with the sense that he had to still be dreaming, but while he had, upon occasion, envisioned plush sheets, a carefully banked fire and a roof over his head, he had never once imagined the now routine wakeup call of a stick hand knocking on his door or a seat at a fully laden table for breakfast. Odder still was his dining companion; Anna's sleep schedule placed her first meal squarely in the later hours of the morning, trending closer to the afternoon at an alarming rate, which meant that the 'Royal Ice Master and Deliverer' often dined with her Royal Highness.

This...had not been conducive to his tentative, awkward, and perhaps floundering relationship with her younger sister.

She was tapping her lips with her fingers. They were bare, of course. She hadn't worn gloves since that fateful night, and sometimes he caught her stock still in the middle of making a gesture, staring dumbly at her hands before moving on. Whether she was shaken or simply surprised, he couldn't be sure.

" _B. pendula_ ," she said.

"...sorry?" he asked, giving her a look.

"The Latin name for that species." She had stopped and was examining the tree, so he stopped too and took the time to follow her gaze. It was a smaller version of the common tree, with short branches bearing delicate, but vibrantly green leaves, and it looked lush and healthy despite its youth, nestled amongst its elders in the small patch of forest that had been ruled quiet enough for the queen to tour it without concern for her safety. He wasn't sure who had decided that, but was simply glad that he had finally had an opportunity to see her in a different setting. Her usual ice dress glittered in the light that trickled through the canopy, absorbing some of the green and tinging it a color that was closer to teal than blue.

He inhaled and looked away. Anna's eyes were teal.

"Would you know if there are any..." She paused and closed her eyes, biting her lip as she thought. Her face seemed so much younger with her eyes closed. Her eyes and her composure lent her so much age. Perhaps it was a symptom of royalty, for in every painting he'd seen of the king he'd seemed years older than the date of the picture claimed.

She opened her eyes. " _P. padus_. Does that mean anything to you?"

He made a face. "Unless you know the common name..."

"Uh," she said, and he almost laughed. The first time he'd heard her say "yeah" he'd been stunned for several seconds. Her bearing was such that he could hardly conceive of her using words like that, and she didn't when in public, only when with people she trusted. It had taken him some time to realize that she now considered him one of those people.

"Bird...something. Um. Bird...some sort of fruit..."

"Bird cherry?" he asked, perking up.

"That's it; I remembered it because that's one of our exports." She folded her arms; not a nervous movement, like he had seen before, but judging by her expression more of an exasperated one. "A deal fell through recently on a shipment to Istran. Apparently Weselton has been whining about our decision to boycott its goods and has been stirring up trouble."

This was the exact opposite of where he wanted the conversation to be going, and he could already imagine Anna tapping her foot and glaring at him when a tired and distracted Elsa got off her horse, murmuring about having things to think about but that her sister and Kristoff should excuse her for dinner.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't see any of those here, but..." He fetched his knife from his belt and showed her the handle. "This was made from one of them. It's great for small things like this."

He didn't object when she placed her hand in it, flicking her eyes up at him in silent request before she tugged it free. The blade had a few nicks and scratches in it, but the edge gleamed and it held its sharpness quite well. She tilted it, rubbing her fingers over the hilt, watching the knife reflect the sunlight at different angles. It had amazed him once to find that she had never held rope before, nor had she tasted the simple pleasure of wild game roasted over on a spit. From the way her eyes, so old in so many ways, had softened and brightened with her happiness when she stroked a docile Sven, tugging lightly on his ears and grinning shyly when he responded by nuzzling her, he had decided that whatever she desired to touch, to see, to experience, would instantly be hers should he have the power to give it.

"What about oaks?" she said, returning his knife to him.

"We're too far North for them; they like the warmer regions." He glanced to the side as they continued down the small game trail, his boots crunching on the few dried leaves that covered it, her slippers silent when she followed him. Her mouth turned downwards and he added hastily, "but they're not that farther south, so if you would like to see some it couldn't be more than a day's journey."

She sighed, the corners of her lips not moving at all. "I doubt I could leave for that long." She looked down at her hands, and he was unhappy to find them wrapped around one another, the fingers twisting in evidence to her unhappiness.

"The next time Grandpabbie goes on a pilgrimage to see the Old One you could go with him," he offered.

She paused, turning towards him with a thin line in between her eyes. "The Old One? And...did you say that he...leaves?"

This, at least, was familiar territory again, and he relaxed, folding his arms and leaning back as he explained. "The Old One is an oak tree, one so old that even Grandpabbie doesn't remember when she was first planted. He likes to visit her now and again and offer her some of the water from the springs in the clearing because he says that it rejuvenates her."

She was watching him carefully, in the way that she always did when he spoke of his family, which had encouraged him to do so often. She would never bring it up herself, and he suspected it was because as a private person she didn't want to pry, but he could see the longing written on her face whenever she learned more of the trolls. They had a special place in her heart, not only for saving her sister's life but also as the only magical kin that she could lay claim to. If he wasn't certain that the old troll would never agree to set foot in a human town he would have asked Grandpabbie to visit the queen to alleviate some of the loneliness she felt despite being open about her magic.

He started a little, returning to himself after being lost in a sea of blue, when a small hand gripped his forearm tightly. "Look!" she gasped, pointing over his shoulder and he swiveled to see a lynx perched at the top of a large rock formation, its eyes mere slits as it sunned itself. It didn't seem to have noticed them, its ears high and big paws tucked underneath its chest.

"What animal is that?" she whispered, her breath tickling his neck as she watched the lynx from over his shoulder, and he swallowed, shifting a little so that she was no longer so close. He was acutely aware of her palm, so cool and in stark contrast to the warm, almost muggy air, still draped over his arm. Anna had, at every turn, encouraged her sister to touch and be touched, and while it was a joy to watch her emerge from her shell, there were times when he wished that she would turn away more often, if only because his skin flushed tellingly as his eyes lingered. Anna was a wonderful person, but Elsa...

Elsa was an intoxicating mystery.

"It's a lynx," he said, keeping his voice low, and she nodded, her eyes never straying from the animal.

"It's beautiful." She didn't move, content to watch the cat as it lounged, and he willed himself to control his reaction to the sight of her enraptured face. There was something in her eyes; admiration, fascination, curiosity as well, and their combination was something he had told himself that he should not want. There was another woman whose eyes watched him, bright and round and filled with joy and laughter and excitement. For some time now that had been more than enough. But it wasn't now.

"Very," he grunted, her eyes darting to him in confusion. Perhaps the forest intended to punish him for the direction of his attention, because at that moment the lynx opened its eyes and then widened them in alarm, jumping to its feet and over the far edge of the rocks in one swift movement. At his side Elsa made a small, bereft noise.

And laid her head on his shoulder.

He stared straight ahead, not daring to look down but hoping that the moment would carry on as far as it could. The soft twitter of birds sounded as the two of them stood together, one longing for something beautiful and new, and the other...

...wishing that he wouldn't do the same.


	2. Imagine Me and You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of a prompt where Elsa and Kristoff are sitting down together while Anna watches.

"I have decided," Elsa declared, seating herself with a long, weary groan, "that the queen is a fool and should never be listened to under any circumstances. Every idea of hers is complete idiocy."

Kristoff grinned around a mouthful of steaming hot coffee. Across the fire Elsa was unlacing her boots with the slow, stiff movements of someone who ached in a thousand places. Judging by her grimace and lipbite that was probably accurate. "I don't think that's fair," he said, watching as she made a soft noise through her nose as she tugged off one boot and deposited it beside her, or dropped it instantly, rather, her face twisted with sudden, sharp pain. Her pale skin made the blood that appeared seem much darker than it normally was.

He hissed in sympathy, placed his cup down and got up to sit beside her. "Here, let me see." She gave him a quizzical look but bared her palm. Her hands, small and thin, had several swollen blisters across the fingers and upper palm, undoubtedly the result of her refusal to wear gloves when using the pick and saw, combined with a noble lady's general inexperience with manual labor. He glanced up at her and was unsurprised to see a meek expression peeking out at him from beneath the bangs that she had been too tired to sweep back.

Elsa sighed, her back bowing as she released the last of the day's energy, her shoulders drooping. "I know," she said, looking down at her hands, "I should have worn gloves. As you told me to. I just…hate them."

"Yeah, you were pretty foolish," he agreed, digging through the bag at his feet and coming up with a roll of cloth. He unwound it quickly as she flexed her fingers and winced. "That isn't to say I didn't enjoy company." Odd, since he usually preferred the quiet, or at least a quiet broken by him and Sven 'talking', but the queen's desire to see and experience the world she'd never known was far too enjoyable to miss out on by being a recluse. And he still had his quiet for the most part; Anna was still off with Olaf, taking with her the vast majority of words spoken within their little group.

It had meant that he and Elsa had spent several hours alone on the frozen lake as he showed her how to wield the tools of an ice harvester. Their work had been slow, as had their conversations beyond patient instructions on his part and furrowed brows and silent determination on hers, but that hadn't meant that it wasn't companionable. If anything, sometimes it felt like words got in the way of their talking through the silence, speaking with sidelong glances and brief, shy smiles.

She flinched when he laid the end of the cloth on her palm and he tendered a hasty apology. She held up her other hand and he paused, watching as she summoned a crust of ice that covered the cloth, her wrist hanging limply as she relaxed. It was a beautiful thing to watch her use her magic for everyday things, secure in the knowledge that she was safe to do so.

"Does that help?" he asked.

She nodded and he continued wrapping the cloth around her hand. It didn't crackle or break like frozen cloth would, the ice crystals bending instead of shattering. They had somehow woven themselves into the cloth, turning it into a hybrid of magic and material that felt cold enough to cool the pads of his fingers but not enough to make his hands ache. He stroked the cloth with his fingertips, enjoying the feel of the flexible ice against his skin.

She nudged him with her toe and he jerked his head up, looking directly into her expectant eyes. A small smile made her gaze seem softer. "Oh, sorry, I…" He chuckled nervously as he looked down, looping the cloth around before tucking the end. For some reason he could only handle so much direct eye contact. Whenever he lingered too long his imagination would taunt him with the sight of…something in her deliriously blue eyes.

The eyes that were still watching him as she wordlessly raised her other hand.

He risked another look at her and was unsurprised to find she was looking away. She wasn't one for eye contact either, but even a loner like him could read the longing in her face.

It was too much to hope that the two were connected.

* * *

"Hey Anna!" Olaf said with his usual cheer as he trotted up to her, sitting on a small stump, pointed towards the flickering light of the fire off in the distance. He had several twigs tucked under one arm, including his other arm. "I found some more wood for the fire. It was just where you said!" He didn't mention the fact that there were plenty of twigs much closer than the ones he'd had to hunt for; she probably sent him in that direction because…because only special trees burned? Of course. That made sense. And some trees were made into houses. Humans were smart to pick the right ones for their needs.

He stopped when Anna winced and looked at the ground, he gasping at the sight of the teartracks. He dropped his load of twigs and hurried over to her, plopping beside her and searching her face, distraught when she turned away. "Oh no, are you okay?" He hadn't been gone that long, and she'd seemed fine before. Why was she crying? "What happened?" His single attached hand clutched his head as his mind whirled around faster than the flurry above his head. "Oh, I know, I'll get Elsa, she'll-"

"Olaf," she mumbled as he bounced to his feet, "please don't get her."

She sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, still staring at the ground. What was so important about the ground? Would it help her feel better? But wouldn't Elsa be better at that?

He sat down beside her and leaned into her side, perplexed and unhappy when she drew her cloak tighter around herself. This wasn't right. Something bad had happened to Anna, and it made him feel like there were angry butterflies caught in his snow. It wasn't a pleasant sensation, even though butterflies were happy, carefree, beautiful things. Just like Anna. Or how she usually was.

"Are…are you sure you don't want me to get her?" he asked, tilting his head, trying to find her eyes. They were red rimmed, like she had a cold. He tried pulling the cloak down around her shoulders with his one arm and this time she didn't pull away, just kept her eyes trained on the ground. "It wouldn't bother her at all, she hates seeing you unhappy. Me too. You're Anna, and that means smiles and candy and sleigh rides and other fun, happy things…" He trailed off when she didn't respond and his stick hand fell to his side in stunned defeat.

"Olaf," she began, wrapping her arms around herself. For some reason her heavy winter clothing didn't cut down the chill. "When you look at them, what do you see?"

He stared at the pair, who were engrossed in conversation, the firelight casting deep shadows in the late evening, tinging their faces red to match the sky. They were talking, though he was too far away to hear what they were saying, but the way Elsa tilted her head was the same way she did when she looked at Anna, and Kristoff was gesturing with one ungloved hand at his gloved hand, which cupped a small ice creation. Gone was Elsa's customary stiffness; she'd left it behind once they'd left the castle.

"They look happy." A simple declaration for a simple emotion that she wished she, too, could feel.

Anna's smile didn't last long. She had always hated putting on a brave front. It always felt too much like lying. "Yeah, they do. That's…that's why I'm going to stay away."

"But…" He was looking first at Anna's face, so unrecognizable with her lips turned in the wrong direction, and then towards the fireside, where Elsa and Kristoff were speaking more quietly now, their words still inaudible but the gaiety evident from even here. "I don't understand," he said, "how can you be sad if Elsa's happy? That's….that's not how love works."

Love. She'd learned a lot about what true love was since the day when the ice melted away. When she was younger she had imagined love to be something powerful, world-ending, something that sent a hero to the ends of the earth for a heroine, something that brought grown men to their knees. She had imagined grand declarations of passionate desire, letters exchanged between two illicit lovers, written with trembling hands and punctuated with tears, or moonlit walks down a forested path. That last one had actually happened to her, but it hadn't turned out like she'd hoped.

Her silly imaginings had been dashed within the span of a sentence as cold reality descended upon her when Hans smiled at her pain.

Now she knew what true love was. It was bearing the burden of loneliness for the sake of another's happiness. Elsa had done that for years.

Now it was Anna's turn.

There was something cruel about it all. She had wished for Elsa's love, attention, affection, for years. Over time that had waned, shrinking into a small, sharp point, coalescing into a single question whose answer she had yearned to know.

_Why did you leave me?_

She had thought it was because Elsa, for whatever reason, despised her secretly, because she couldn't conceive of love at arm's length, or love through the thick barrier of a close door. She had always thought that love was something to be shouted out loud and let out into the light, that to hide away was, by its very nature, antisocial and therefore hatred.

Now she knew how someone could reject another and yet still love them dearly. And with that knowledge came another truth, painful to behold: Elsa would be happy with Kristoff, and he with her, but Anna was in the way.

She had already given her life for her sister. What was one thing more?

"He loves her," she said. It shouldn't have hurt. She was only speaking the truth. After all, who wouldn't love Elsa? She was perfect in every way; beautiful, poised, elegant, intelligent. How could Anna even hope to compare?

"Is…is that bad?" Olaf asked, his tone suggesting it wasn't.

She looked up in time to see the flash of Elsa's smile winging through the swiftly approaching darkness.

She came to her decision and stood, wiping the last of her tears away. "No," she said, and took a deep breath, willing her lingering concerns to follow it out of her body. She sighed and patted Olaf's head when he wrapped himself around her leg, his large eyes filled with concern and confusion. "No, that's…that's not bad at all." She smiled, the image of Elsa's face when she laughed helping her with the heavy burden.

"If she's happy then I'm happy too."

It didn't matter if it was a lie. She would learn to live it in time.


	3. Shall We Dance?

"I don't know if I'm doing this right," he said, adjusting his cuffs for at least the seventh time.

Elsa sighed. He'd gone and undone one of the cuffs and would probably be struggling with it for a while.

"Doing what right?"

"Just…this." He waved his hand at his clothes. They were perfectly tailored – an adamant Kai had seen to that – and fit him not at all. The sky blue jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders while contouring to his chest well. It was also apparently too hot for him, because he kept tugging at his necktie. Beneath it was a blood red cravat that already looked wrinkled. His black pants were thankfully free of any reindeer hairs, as were his well-polished boots, but the way he shifted indicated that even they bothered him.

"It could be worse," she said as she examined the room beyond through the small gap. They had yet to make an entrance, seeing as Anna had tripped and torn her dress in her haste to get to the hallway where her sister and friend waited and so had been sent off quickly to change.

"How could this possibly be worse?" he asked, holding up one sleeve, which had flopped open. "Royal getup is awful."

She grinned. "You could be wearing female royal getup."

He considered this, winced, and nodded in begrudging agreement. Anna had, over the course of the past several weeks, decided that Kristoff's status as her best friend meant that he should be privy to anything and everything that she wished to discuss, talk about, or rant over. Sometimes those talks devolved into monologues with one previously innocent man being utterly stunned by the sheer complexity of feminine undergarments, and quite glad that there was no situation where he would be forced to don them.

Gerda ducked her head into the room and informed them that Anna was almost ready. This was the second time she'd said that, but Elsa didn't mind. If she was being honest with herself, which was a bad habit she was indulging in with greater frequency, she would say she was glad for the chance to stand idly by and just wait.

She glanced at her companion. Kristoff had twisted his arm so that his elbow was almost at the height of his shoulder, his wrist tucked into his breastbone as he struggled to put the cufflink back in place. If she imagined the surly expression and a tiny tongue sticking out he looked almost like Anna when she was just learning to tie knots.

Elsa remembered one day when Anna had proudly announced to their father that she had tied a knot that was impossible to untie, oh and she never had to worry about finding a seat ever again. Father had spent the next half-hour disentangling Anna from the chair while muttering under his breath, refusing to let Elsa simply freeze the ropes to the point where he'd had to apologize to both of them, Elsa for making her upset and Anna for making Elsa upset.

"You're smiling," Kristoff muttered. He still had his chin pressed against the dip in his collarbone as his large fingers tried to get the cufflink into the tiny hole.

"I am," Elsa admitted. That made her smile more. There was something incredibly nice about happy thoughts making one even happier; usually it was the other way around.

"Thinking about Anna?"

"How'd you guess?"

"You get this sort of look that's…" Kristoff put his arm down as he thought, his eyes roving towards the ceiling. His hair had returned to its usual mussed look because he's run his fingers through it too often, but even the ever patient Kai had simply thrown his hands in the air and declared that if the man was to ruin all of his hard work then he'd better march out into the party with his nappy-haired head held high.

"It's like happiness, but distant. Like a reflection in a murky lake." He shrugged. "I'm not sure how else to describe it. Like happy, but muted."

"I suppose," she said, gnawing on her bottom lip. She glanced down at her hands. This was the first time she would be without her gloves in a royal party. Or, well, the second time.

She should be feeling relaxed, at least compared to Kristoff. She had had the finest tutors and had the rules of etiquette drilled into her head over the course of years, in between lessons on foreign relations, public speaking and legal matters.

And yet one's schooling cannot compete with experience, and her past experience included rampant disaster.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head. Some of his bangs fell forward into his eyes. They were a rich caramel. She blinked and nodded. He frowned. "Are you sure? You don't have to do this; you're the queen, right? You can just tell people to go home. Just go on, get out of here," he said, waving his hand, the open sleeve waving right along with it.

This she could focus upon. "Here, let me…" She pulled gently at his arm and he offered it to her. She slipped the button inside the hole and smoothed his sleeve before fixing his cravat and yanking his jacket lapels in place. She motioned for him to drop his head and he did so, she rising up on her toes as she set her hands on his hair.

He peered at her from under his bangs as she tried to do something with them with her fingers. He was very tall, and it made it difficult. "You're still nervous."

"I'm not Sven," she said, raising one eyebrow as the side of her mouth quirked upward, "so you can't talk through me at yourself."

His laughter rumbled through him and she felt it in her fingertips. It made them feel a little tingly, so she released him and stepped back.

"There. You look better now…so don't do anything to yourself. You're perfectly fine, they'll love you."

"Now who's speaking for who?" Kristoff said, and once again Elsa found herself smiling, probably because his hazel eyes were shining with amusement and they were surprisingly easy to get lost in.

Gerda poked her head in. "Your Majesty, her Hi-"

"-is here!" cried Anna as she ran up to meet them. Her blue dress, which had matched Kristoff's suit, was replaced by a teal one that had a rosette pattern that bloomed from the hemline and sent lines like stylized vines up the length of the dress. Her hair was also in a different arrangement: she had previously had it loose and flowing but now had it pinned back in a look that was far too severe for her. On the other hand, it masked the fact that her hair was still somewhat damp rather well.

"Okay, you two ready….?" She stopped in front of them, looking between the two of them. Kristoff recognized how they looked seconds before Elsa did, because he stepped back even farther, leaving her standing on tiptoe, her hands empty. She let them fall to her sides, giving Anna a guilty look.

But Anna didn't look upset, or hurt, or confused. Oddly enough she looked…thoughtful. So thoughtful, in fact, that she didn't say a word, just sent slow, measured glances between the pair. Elsa's stomach fell to her feet. Rambunctious, playful Anna was dangerous enough. Calculating Anna was a force to be reckoned with.

"Anna, I think you should make sure Kristoff isn't nervous," Elsa heard herself saying as she settled into the role of queen once more. "He might need some guidance, besides."

Anna had her hands behind her back, a slow, smug smile overtaking her face. This did not bode well.

"I think you're better at that then me," she said, and Elsa and Kristoff frowned at her as one, but the look she returned was as innocent as a summer day. Elsa's suspicions immediately rose.

Kai opened the door to the ballroom. "Your Majesties, Mr. Bjorgman…?"

Kristoff made a small noise that didn't fit a man of his size and Elsa made a placating gesture to the manservant who nodded and closed the door.

Elsa took a deep breath and faced her sister's friend. "Kristoff," she began, "it's not going to be easy. You're not going to know what to say, how to say it, where to stand or what to do."

Kristoff stared at her. "If this is a pep talk it's not very good."

"…but," Elsa continued, "that doesn't matter, because you are our guest."

Anna, who had come up beside her, nodded fiercely. "That's right. Anyone who gives you grief can answer to me."

"Well," Elsa said quickly, "perhaps we can avoid that with a real pep talk." She swallowed and brought her hands together. Anna's hand on her wrist was a small but significant pressure, forcing her to let her hands go, and she sent her a weak but thankful smile.

"All of the people in there are worth being there, and that includes you. You've probably done more for the realm than many of the people present, so if you feel out of place it's only because you're above them; they're not above you." Kristoff's eyes darted to the side in disagreement.

Her voice was smaller when she continued. "And I know that you might be scared because this is new but…" She extended her hand. It was ungloved. After a moment's hesitation, he brought out his arm and gingerly raised it so that she could lay her palm upon it. On her left side Anna automatically looped her arm around Elsa's and the queen found herself smiling for a third time. She would worry about running out of smiles but they seemed in infinite supply.

"Ready?" Kai called.

The two women looked at Kristoff; Kristoff, who was looking at Elsa. There was a newfound respect in his eyes. He nodded, and if he gulped then no one commented.

They strode out into the room amidst cheers and clapping; the saviors of Arendelle had arrived.

* * *

Elsa was discussing a recent law regarding tariffs with one of the Swedish ambassadors when she caught sight of Anna talking with one of the upper class merchant's sons. The boy was hardly taller than Anna's knees, so she was bent near in two when she talked to him. She laughed at something he'd said and ruffled his hair.

The ambassador noticed her distraction and followed her gaze. "Ah, that is very sweet, yes? She will make a fine mother one day. Have you begun arrangements for her marriage?"

Elsa's gut reaction was to respond that no, Kristoff and Anna were not to be wed, not after several long heartfelt conversations that resulted in a melancholic ice harvester spending too much time at bars and a worried sister constantly asking Elsa for advice on what to do. Kristoff had taken the change in their relationship harder than she had, and while Elsa believed there was still a part of his heart that belonged to Anna, it matched the same part of hers that was just as devoted to her sister.

But the ambassador continued. "I'm certain there are many eligible bachelors just waiting to meet her."

No one had taken their relationship seriously; no one, that is, beyond the servants of the castle and Elsa herself, anyone who had actually seen them up close and cared about them as people. To the outsider it was a strange fling that would be quickly finished and pushed to the side as the princess searched for more acceptable partners. No one actually believed that a man who could barely afford to feed and clothe himself, who had no family background to speak of, and who had little interaction with the general public beyond his gruff salesman exterior, was a serious contender for the affections of the princess, especially since she had princes on hand to court her.

It had made Elsa unspeakably angry, that they had seen only Kristoff's ragged clothes and hands roughed from labor and not his kind heart, hidden as it was behind layers of ornery loner and smug know-it-all – though his experience in new settings such as these had done wonders on that trait. They had not seen his surprising tenderness, the bluntness that dragged her feelings out into the light and yet allowed her to actually feel them. They had not seen because they had not cared to see.

She was of course angry on Anna's behalf. Kristoff, though her friend now too, was still separated from her by her sister. They were the ones who talked long into the night when Elsa was too tired to stay with them, they were the ones who visited different towns or places and came back with stories too unbelievable to be fictional, while Elsa stayed at home.

It was not something that either of them wanted, for sure, but sometimes it was easier this way. Her secret was out and known, the gates were open, but that didn't mean she had to step outside them just yet. She wasn't quite as courageous as Kristoff was, stepping into a world he didn't understand and was totally alien to him.

As if summoned by her thoughts, he appeared by her elbow while the Swedish ambassador was still watching the boy and her sister. One of his sleeves lay open: he gave her a sheepish look.

She laughed this time and set to righting it, and in that moment the band struck up a tune. A waltz. She froze, looking around; they were in the dead center of the dance floor, with the ambassador backing away to safety.

Kristoff's terrified eyes met her own.

"What…what do we do?" he whispered through clenched teeth. He seemed afraid to take a step away, as if he believed the ballroom floor would turn into glass and shatter beneath him for engaging in such an obvious faux paus.

Someone coughed beside them. Below them, actually. Both of them turned and looked down.

The little boy Anna had been talking to grinned at them. He had a gap in his front teeth.

"You're a really pretty couple," he said, loud enough to make people turn their heads. "Are you the king?" He asked Kristoff, whose eyes bulged in response. He made to set the child right, but stopped when he remembered everyone was looking at them.

"Aren't you gonna dance?" the boy asked. Elsa stared at him in horror. Kristoff didn't know how to dance; she'd have to lead him which…

Which didn't seem that bad, come to think of it.

As she was thinking about this new idea, the boy ran off to a small alcove. Elsa narrowed her eyes when the boy reached out his hand and accepted a chocolate from a very familiar person.

From across the ballroom Anna flashed her sister a huge smile.

Something in Elsa's stomach fluttered; whether it was excitement, nervousness, or nervous excitement, she couldn't be sure. As she stepped closer to Kristoff, setting her hand on one shoulder and drawing his hand gently to her waist, his large palm warm and supporting against her side, she decided that devious Anna was indeed a very dangerous woman.

The way he cupped her hand and waited for her signal, patient and understanding, made the flush on her cheeks worthwhile. And now they matched, too.

She swallowed at the same time he did, and then they took their first steps together.


	4. Just A Few Simple Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of a prompt where Elsa and Kristoff, already in a relationship, tend to be cute and flirty around each other but quiet when Anna comes by. The prompt as it was written was a bit more specific but, as is tradition for me at this point I had an idea and went with it. Enjoy!

When Princess Anna was informed that her sister was in the library, she was not surprised. Elsa enjoyed reading, and now that she had less cause to skitter about the castle like a mouse who expected to see cats around every corner she spent more time there than in her room or office. Anna was very proud of her progress, and told her as much nearly every day. It made Elsa lift her eyes to the heavens when Anna gave her compliment after compliment on coming out of her shell, but she bore it all with the grace of a woman being flattered by her younger sister and usually just begged Anna to tell her about her day over coffee and cookies.

When she was informed that a Mr. Kristoff Bjorgman was also in the library she was again, not surprised, but definitely intrigued. Kristoff clung to the outdoors in the same way that Elsa clung to the indoors, each of them having to be coaxed in the opposite direction by the well-intentioned but firm demands of the princess. He could be perfectly civilized, if he wanted to be, but if he had the choice between the wide open expanse of nature or the closed quarters of manmade buildings he usually chose the former, reserving the latter for when it was too cold to sleep outside, even with Sven acting as a source of warmth. As far as Anna was aware, the trolls preferred oral histories and lessons to books but stooped to runes if they simply had to, so Kristoff's knowledge of the written word was quite poor.

So she would have been surprised, had she not known the precise reason why Kristoff was there.

This called for a trip to the library.

Whistling to herself, she headed for the library.

She made sure to halt before the doors and crouch down with her ear at the keyhole. For several moments she heard nothing except the calls of birds coming from the open windows. The air seemed quite still and quiet, no one in the halls to disturb the silence. It being the late afternoon, most of the servants were winding down at their tasks or focusing upon setting up the dining hall for dinner, so she was certain there was no one there but her.

And two special someones, of course.

Then she heard it. The soft murmur of voices, followed by paper shuffling and scratching. She grinned and stood, pulling open the door.

Elsa whirled her head around so quickly at the sound that she smacked Kristoff in the face with her braid. He spluttered and jerked back in his seat, his back to the door. "What the-?"

He quieted when he turned in his chair to see Anna standing in the open door, giving them both a huge smile.

"Goooood afternoon," she crowed as she pranced up to their table. Elsa took a few deep breaths, clearly relieved to find the intruder was only her sister, relaxing for all of a second before realizing that the intruder was her sister and slowly leaning back in her seat and removing her elbows from the table. Kristoff did the same but with less subtlety so that they were no longer hunched over a piece of paper but simply seated side by side. Very close side by side.

Anna clapped her hands on their shoulders and leaned between them. She scrunched up her nose as her eyes slid over the runes; they just looked like a bunch of randomly arranged hatch marks to her.

"Kristo-ah, Mr. Bjorgman is teaching me to read some runes," Elsa said. She had a hard time scooching her chair to the left with Anna's hand on her shoulder, but she made a good show of it. Kristoff was threading and rethreading his fingers together, the pencil lying unguarded on the table.

Anna snatched it up and twirled it around in her fingers. "Sounds like fun. Can I join? You'll have to show me what these mean," she said, tapping the end of the pencil on one of the lines.

She almost started giggling at the way both of them immediately tensed. It'd been years since she'd had something to tease Elsa about. She was going to milk this for all its worth.

"Um," Kristoff said as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder at Anna, who sent him back a perfectly innocent smile of encouragement, and flipped the paper over. "I think it'd be better if we started off with the alphabet instead of full words, right?"

Anna nodded. "That makes sense." Her voice betrayed absolutely no amusement whatsoever. Elsa's eyes narrowed, but she moved her chair to the side when Anna brought another one up between them, plopping herself down and looking expectantly at Kristoff.

His eyes darted over her head for a moment before he focused on the paper. "Well, the alpha-" He paused.

Anna handed him the pencil. "Keep going."

He looked down at it, raised his eyebrows, and decided to continue. "The alphabet's generally pretty easy…"

He began to draw several runes, leaving enough space between them so she wouldn't be confused by where one ended and the other began. Beneath them he wrote the corresponding letters, stopping upon occasion to explain how some runes existed for letters that Arendellan did not have, or vice versa, as some runes appeared to stand in place for multiple letters. Anna nodded gamely, actually quite interested in this affair.

Although admittedly she was also very interested in the way that Elsa's fingers tapped nervously on the tabletop to her left.

"Oooh what's this one?" Anna asked, pointing at the one he'd drawn before he could get the letter out. It looked like a pair of flags facing each other.

"That's 'mannaz'; it stands for 'm'." Kristoff wrote 'm' beneath the rune and Anna tried to force the shape into her memory alongside the letter it represented.

"Can you write Arendellan words in runes?"

"Of course," Kristoff said after a pause. There was a light flush on his upper cheeks. Elsa had gone silent.

"Can you write my name?"

Kristoff obliged, drawing the runes one by one. It looked like a pair of downturned 'f's' surrounding two crosses. When told to write his name, it involved far more runes but she was disappointed to find that they looked very similar to the actual letters. Phooey. That was no good.

"What about Elsa's name?"

Kristoff also wrote that down. He did so so quickly and finely that it was clear that he had had a good deal of practice doing so. Of the three of them, Elsa's name in runes was the one that looked truly foreign, which she supposed fit her sister to be the odd one out. But at the same time they had been written so well it looked beautiful.

Written so lovingly…

Anna swallowed down laughter before she began demanding different words, throwing out ones like "man", "queen", "sister", "friend", "ice", "magic", "love", "secret", "obvious", "lovers", "flirting", "relationship", "acceptance", "know" and others.

Kristoff's pencil ran down at "illicit"; he frowned at it. Elsa, meanwhile, hadn't said a word. Every time Anna looked over at her her pale skin had grown pinker.

Anna clapped her hands together. "Well! I guess that's all for today, right? Thanks for being such a great friend and showing me all those interesting words; I feel like we all learned a lot, didn't we?"

Elsa put her head in her hands.

Kristoff sighed and rubbed his forehead. He gnawed at his lip for a minute, looking at Anna out of the corner of his eye. He took out his knife and shaved the pencil down just enough so that the tip was there once more, and began to write.

Anna squinted at the runes, taking them in one at a time.

I…l-o-v-e….y-o-u-r….s-i-s-t-e-r.

Anna nodded solemnly and held out her hand for the pencil. He silently gave it to her; now it was his fingertips tapping on the table.

Anna began scratching at the paper quickly.

I…k-n-o-w. I-t'-s…o-k-a-y. Y-o-u'-r-e…c-u-t-e…t-o-g-e-t-h-e-r.

She beamed and pushed the paper over to him.

His eyes sped across the lines. He slowly smiled.

And then rubbed out three of her runes. Anna harrumphed. So much for a grand gesture of acceptance.

"Here, let me fix it," she said, grabbing the paper and flipping it over, intending to write something better to show Elsa.

Kristoff flinched. "No, wait-"

Anna stared down at the paper. Now that she knew what to look for, "Elsa" and "love" popped up a LOT. "Love" in particular was written in two different sets of handwriting; one broad and sure, the other short and tense and clearly from a beginner.

"Hey Elsa," Anna said, leaning over to her. Her sister winced and looked up, biting her lip. Anna pointed her finger at one line written in her sister's handwriting. "What does this line mean?"

Elsa swallowed. "Um." She took the paper up and looked at Kristoff. Her blush was much more pronounced now. "It…it means…" She looked down at the paper.

"I think I can guess it myself," Anna prompted as she slipped her arm around her sister's. Elsa glanced down at it, then up at her, taking in her utterly blissful smile, and a small grin began growing on her face. She returned her eyes to the paper.

"It says…I love you, Kristoff."

Anna nodded, looking between them as she did so. "I thought so. That's what it looked like. And I'm guessing this-" she pointed at another line right below it, in what she recognized now as Kristoff's handwriting "-says…what, Kristoff?"

He was also grinning; sheepishly, but still grinning. "It says…I love you, Elsa."

"That's so sweet," Anna said, happy as a clam. "There. Now was that so hard to say?"

Both of them made as though to object but they were both smiling too hard, their eyes too bright and faces too filled with the happiness that comes of love being out in the light to really say anything.

Anna smoothed her hands over her dress, trying not to feel smug. "By the way, I've known for months."

Elsa frowned. "Months? But we haven't been together for only a few we-um." Kristoff was looking just as confused.

"For months," Anna repeated as she stood, pushing her chair back. "I mean, it's not like you can keep a secret from me."

Both of them raised their eyebrows at the same exact time. Anna decided now was not the time to be offended.

She patted Kristoff on the back, kissed Elsa on the cheek, and walked over to the door. Just before she left, she looked back at them. "It's so cute how you tried to keep it a secret."

Now it was Elsa rubbing her neck. "Well…we didn't want you to feel left out. And well, both of us like our privacy so…"

"Left out?" Anna asked, shocked. "Of course not! I'm happy you're happy together. Really, you should be feeling upset about leaving everyone else out."

Elsa's shy grin froze. "What?"

"Oh nothing," Anna said, flapping her hand. "I just had the cooks make you a cake celebrating, is all. See you at dinner!"

She shut the door before she could hear Elsa start to gasp and choke.

It was a good thing she was the younger sister. She'd never survive someone like her.


End file.
